Clarity
by ChelseaDagger14
Summary: Viola Marrok has everything a girl could ask for- a 4.0 GPA, unrealistic expectations, demanding parents, hidden scars, and now, her very own werewolf. Seth/OC
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

**Thanks so much to **Cassy-Kay **for Beta-ing this chapter. She has a bunch of awesome imprint stories too- check those out! :)**

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><p><em>Clarity<em>

**Prologue**

I held my breath as my Chemistry teacher put the paper face down on my desk.

It's just a test Viola. It's only just a test. I chanted internally. But I knew. Yeah, deep down- I knew.

Just a test my ass.

Not wanting to prolong the misery of waiting any longer, I flipped the paper over with haste. And my heart crushed in my chest. B. An 86 percent. Mrs. Ward didn't even have the decency to forgo the little smiley face in the top corner.

What was happening to me? Maybe I need to see the guidance councilor? This has never happened to me before. Oh, god- what if this brings down my GPA? How will I get into med school? I mean, this is my junior year of high school- this is important. Harvard is going to notice if I only get a B in Chemistry.

The bell rang, but I was in a fog. I didn't want to go home and face the wrath of my parents. "God, Viola- It's a B, get over it nerd. You know, some people would kill for that grade." My lab partner, Jenna, hissed viciously at me as she collected her stuff to leave for the day before strutting off with her perfectly primped peacock friends. I hardly took notice. I haven't taken notice of most people in this school for…a while.

No one really liked me enough to care why I started eating lunch alone with a book anyway. I used to eat in the library, but the principle found a couple of kids smoking pot in one of the study carols and since then we've needed a pass for lunch… Of course it was decided that peer advisors would be the ones to give out the passes, which meant it was a popularity contest. Which means I lose.

"Ms. Marrok? Viola? Viola Marrok?" A hand waved in front of my face.

"Huh?" I must have zoned out. Mrs. Ward stood in front of me, her hands on her hips and an amused smile playing on her motherly face.

"Class is over, dear. It's three o'clock."

My head was still swimming. I got a B! Oh, god.

"I…sorry Mrs. Ward. I'll just go then." I frantically grabbed my books and rushed out of the room, stumbling along the way. I walked briskly down the halls that were now almost deserted. _This couldn't be happening. _I must have spaced out for a while. I looked down again at the shameful Chemistry test. I felt the telltale prickling behind my eyes that signified the beginning of tears.

_Clarity._

I needed clarity.

I rushed into the girls bathroom, eternally grateful to find it empty. I knew that I needed to do this before I lost the nerve.

I practically tripped into one of the stalls as I hung my backpack up on the hook with shaky hands. I then opened up my pencil case to find a little plastic bag with small glass shards. _"For emergencies only"_, I had labeled it. This qualified as an emergency.

It took a few tries to get the glass shard out of the bag because my hands were shaking so badly from the effort of holding back sobs. Once I did, I wasted no time in pulling up the sleeves of my shirt and jamming the glass into my skin.

I thought about the Chemistry grade, and I thought about Harvard, and I thought about how disappointed my parents would be. That's what I thought about as little beads of blood formed on my skin. It hurt. Anyone who says cutting doesn't hurt is lying. I embraced the pain…and it brought me clarity.

It un-fogged the cloudy, mist-covered window that was my brain at the moment. All of those worries had just disappeared… Well, maybe they hadn't disappeared, but they were gone for now. My brain was now only focused on the biting pain coming from slashes on my arm. And unlike those other things: college, parents, and grades- this I can anticipate… this I can control. I am in control of my pain.

Immediately, my mind went onto autopilot. I walked out of the stall and cleaned off the glass before putting it back in my bag. I inspected the cut. It was deep. It would scar. I couldn't bring myself to care.

I held my arm under the running water, watching it mix with my blood as a dim pink color slipped down the drain in little ribbons. I got some gauze out of my pencil case (also labeled for emergencies) and wrapped the cut. I slipped some bracelets over it so the gauze would be less noticeable.

Then, I took my books and left. I got in my run down old Chevy and let my hands and feet take me home via pure muscle memory. My brain was shut off. I had checked out.

I walked into the house and put my keys in the basket. I barely had two feet up the stairs before I heard my mother calling for me. "Viola!"

Oh, god. She sounded angry. Is it possible…? No, absolutely not. She couldn't have found out about the test yet. "Viola! Get down here."

I walked down the stairs and into her office - a walk I have performed so many times now that I have aptly dubbed it "The Death March".

"You're late." Her voice was accusing, but she didn't even look up from her papers. She was a lawyer. She graduated from Harvard, and often liked to remind me of that fact. "You usually get home at three-fifteen exactly, but today you were fifteen minutes late. Why?"

Most days, I wasn't even aware she knew I was home. "I'm sorry mom, I was discussing some work with my Chemistry teacher." Not too far off from the truth, really.

"How is Chemistry going?" Great, now she wants to talk. Normally, I would love to talk to my mom. Discussions - civil ones, at least - are few and far between in this household. All I want to do now is go upstairs and read Beowulf for my AP Brit Lit class.

"Chemistry is fine."

"Just fine? Did you get your test back yet?" Damn. How did she know about that? No point in lying about this, though. She'll just keep asking about it until I show her. I tried to swallow with a dry throat.

"I- well, Mrs. Ward… you see, what happened was-" I stumbled before my mother cut me off, her patience as thin as paper.

"Stop, Viola. I don't want to hear you mumble. Collect your thoughts, _then_ speak. It wasn't a difficult question." I shrank back as if she had raised her hand to hit me. My mother had always possessed the distinct ability to make me feel impossibly worthless and stupid, no matter the time or place.

"Yes. She gave us the test back today." I said a little stronger, knowing that if I spoke quietly I would only be reprimanded.

"Let me see it." It was an order, not a request.

I handed it to her silently, fearful of her reaction. When she saw the grade, her grey eyes snapped up from her current case for the first time since I stepped into the room. "Viola!" She gasped. "What is this? A B? You've never gotten a grade this low! What's happened to you?"

I didn't try to stand up for myself, knowing that any explanation I had to give her - however viable - would be promptly shut down. "I mean, Viola! This is… this is disgraceful. What is it then? Let's hear it. What excuse do you have for this grade?" She said, already reverting to her lawyer lifestyle by treating me as if I were a scummy witness on the stand.

"I have no excuse. I suppose I didn't study hard enough." I said, ducking my head.

"I'll say. Your father is going to be very disappointed." The problem is, I never see my father. I won't know if he's disappointed, because he's always at work.

I tried to do myself a favor by making promises. "I'll do extra credit! I'll get a tutor, mom! I'll try harder. _I promise._" I pleaded, painfully eager to please.

My mom scowled, brushing off her skirt, before sitting back down in her uncomfortable-looking office chair. "No, you won't." She said, picking her pen up once again and going back to her papers. Normally, this was my cue to leave, but I was confused by her last statement.

"I- yes I will! I really will do it."

She put her pen back down and rubbed her temples in frustration, maybe even anger. "No, Viola. You will not be doing extra credit because we are moving." She spoke slowly as if I were an invalid or a child.

And I couldn't help but feel like one as I continued to stand there idiotically. "I…I can still do extra credit if we move to a new home." I stuttered.

"For Christ's sake Viola! We're moving to a new state, not down the goddamn block!" She finally exploded.

My usually quick brain started to put the pieces together. "W-when? And where?" I knew I was pushing my mother's nerves to the very edge with my incessant questioning, but this was the first I had heard of this.

"To Forks, Washington, next week. Now leave. I have work to do." I obeyed the order, walking out on her demand, but I could do nothing to stop the burning questions in my mind.

Why now? Why Forks? What was going to happen to my classes? Wouldn't it look bad on a college application if I switch schools in the middle of my junior year? Would the new school I was going to offer as many rigorous AP courses? Why haven't they told me about this before?

These were merely a few of the inquires I had bouncing around in my head as I desperately tried to focus on Beowulf. If I didn't stop soon, I wouldn't get any work done. Fortunately, I knew just what I needed.

Clarity.

I needed clarity.


	2. Location, Location, Location

**Chapter 1- Location, Location, Location**

Forks, Washington is very different from Miami. First of all, I'm used to palm trees and sunny beaches. Forks is the opposite- instead it has forests that look like they've come straight out of the Blaire Witch Project. And forget about sun. It hasn't stopped raining since I got here six hours ago.

Not that rain is a bad thing. On the contrary, I _love _rain. I live for the ten-minute monsoons in the middle of a hot Florida day. Constant rain is something I could learn to love, I'm sure.

The only thing I don't like from the very start is the cold. I don't own a winter coat, because the coldest it gets in Miami is like 55-60 degrees. I've never seen snow before in my life. Pathetic, right?

"Viola! I'm leaving now. You're father will be home at around midnight. Don't wait up." My mom yelled from downstairs as I folded the last of my clothes from the boxes.

I sighed. This was nothing new. But really- our first night in a new town? Oh well. My dad was a doctor- he had all sorts of strange hours. I was used to it by now.

It was already ten thirty, so I decided to go to bed. It was my first day at La Push High tomorrow. Technically, I _should_ be going to Forks High, but my mom said that of the two, La Push had more challenging courses and offered more AP classes, so I would be going there instead. Of course, this means getting up twenty minutes earlier each day, but that's a small price to pay if it means I don't have to drop any of my hard-earned AP credits.

I set my alarm for six o'clock. Even at that early hour, I knew that by the time I woke up my mother would have already gone to work. The same for my father. But who knows? Maybe Forks will change things.

When the alarm went off, it was still dark outside. It was depressing. I much preferred Florida, where I woke up with the sun. This just felt… lonely.

I padded downstairs to go get breakfast, but soon realized that no one had bothered to go grocery shopping yet, so there was no food in the fridge. I would just have to skip breakfast today.

I found my way back to my bedroom. This house was a lot bigger than our last one. Probably because property value in Forks is significantly less than those in Miami.

I had a couple extra minutes, so I decided to pick out my clothes for the day. Not that it really mattered all that much, but it was nice to make a good first impression on my new classmates. That way maybe no one will be too devastated if they have to work in a group project with me.

I managed to find a semi-flattering sweater to wear over a camisole and a pair of jeans. At the present moment, it was the warmest outfit I had. I threw on my rain jacket and checked the clock again. 7:15.

School doesn't start until 8, but there's no harm in being there early, is there? My Chevy sputtered a bit at first when I tried to start it up, scaring the bejezus out of me. I managed to get the engine running however, much to my relief.

Typically, I don't like using a GPS when I drive- too distracting. I just turned 16 a couple months ago, I'm much younger than most of my classmates. I'm still a very cautious driver.

I got to La Push at 7:45 and parked in the still near-empty lot. At least I got a spot close to the door so I don't have to walk very far in this rain. Torrential downpour is more like it, actually.

I ran under the cover of the small over-hang and tried to wrench the door open. Unsuccessfully. I tried to _push_ the door open. Unsuccessfully. Only _then_ did I read the soggy, slightly blurry and water-logged sign hanging on the door.

_School Open to Students at 8am._

Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Now_ what?

I dashed back to my car, getting soaked along the way. I sighed and slumped down into the driver's seat. There were fifteen minutes left before those doors opened. I rummaged through my car, finding long-forgotten study sheets and old receipts. I found a few PSAT prep guides and broken pencils. Then, at the very bottom, I managed to un-bury my i-Pod. I had completely forgotten about this old thing.

Originally, I had bought it so I could listen to my French dictations before I went to bed, but I had put some music on there as well… just because. I knew my parents probably wouldn't like me using their hard-earned money in that way, but I was hoping they wouldn't notice.

I put the ear-buds into my ears and turned it on, surprised to see that it still had battery life left and didn't need to be charged. Immediately, a French woman began to recite the irregular subjunctive verbs into my brain. I scrolled through all of my playlists until I found some soft song with a piano in the background.

7:50. Ten more minutes. I absent-mindedly rubbed at the scars that littered both my wrists and were slowly merging onto the tops of my legs. It had occurred to me how easy they would be to hide here. Cold weather meant long sleeves and pants which meant a _lot_ less exposed skin.

The welts on the tops of my leg had begun to itch badly. I ran my fingers over them, feeling the raised skin become slightly tender to the touch. Not only is the pain a way to find clarity, but it's also a… reminder, of sorts.

It's like a big message to myself, saying: "You're strong". I love my scars. They're my battle scars. However, they can be a burden. A huge, obvious burden. I'm constantly paranoid that someone will see them.

It's only happened once before, and I was able to frantically make up a lie about my cat. My imaginary, clichéd cat.

I'm not sure what would happen if my parents found out about it. I don't really want to know.

I opened my eyes and saw other students rushing past me in the rain. 7:59 already?

I didn't bother to take my i-Pod out, instead just grabbing my backpack and rushing through the less-than-refreshing downpour.

By the time I made it inside I was soaked, all the extra effort I had put in to look nice this morning negated by the wet-rat look I was currently sporting. I frowned, squeezing my hair out and tying it up into a bun. So much for that.

Miraculously, my i-Pod still worked, despite being doused with water. I navigated my way to the front office through the hoards of bustling students.

"Hi, um… it's my first day here." I told the unhelpful looking lady at the front desk.

"Viola Marrok?" She asked, snapping her gum in my face. I nodded in confirmation.

"Here's your schedule and locker information. Have a nice day." She said dismissively while handing me a stack of papers. Is it possible for her to be any _less_ inviting?

I began approaching my homeroom more and more anxiously. I don't like to be the center of attention, so being the new kid was going to suck.

Okay Viola. You can do this. Deep breaths. Just relax.

I repeated my mantra in an attempt to calm my pounding heart as I walked into room 209.

Immediately, I seized up, overcome with nervousness upon seeing all the activity. Comparatively, my old school was much, much larger, but due to the fact that this is a school for the students on the _reservation_… well, let's just says I stood out like a sore thumb. And that's a whole heck of a lot scarier than mere size.

I gulped and walked to the teacher's desk as the surrounding students continued to ignore me (thankfully). The man behind the desk bore a shocking resemblance to the elder Obi Wan Kenobi. He didn't look up from the politics section of the newspaper as he brought a large coffee cup up to his lips to take a long swig.

I cleared my throat quietly and he did a bit of a quick double-take at my presence, seemingly startled. "Oh, uh… sorry, sorry. You're the new student?" He asked as he put the paper down and tried to arrange the mess that was his desk. He quickly gave up though, apparently realizing himself the hopelessness of the situation.

"Erm, yes. My name is Viola Marrok." I tucked my wet strands of hair behind my ears.

He seemed to perk up a bit. "Viola? You weren't by any chance named after Shakespeare's Viola, were you?"

I nodded shyly. "Yes, from _Twelfth Night_."

He smiled, and there was a beat of awkward silence before he seemed to realize himself. "Oh! Um, right. Yes. Well, I'm, uh, I'm Mr. Quin. I'm an English teacher. And, you already have your schedule, yes? Yes. So, then, I suppose you can just take a seat, and err… Welcome to La Push High, then." He said, painfully awkward.

I hope I have him for class. I think we would get along. I did as he said and found a seat in the back of the classroom, away from the rest of the ruckus. I studied my schedule as I worked my very hardest to remain invisible. So far, it seemed to be working.

"Hey, you're the new kid, right?" I spoke too soon. In front of me stood a thin girl with glossy hair and impeccable clothes- all brand-name, I'm sure. Not to sound stereotypical, but she seemed to be a carbon copy of the exact type of girls I had established a mutual hate for back in Miami. "I'm Grace."

"Viola." I stated with a tight smile.

"What?" She asked, frowning.

"My name is Viola."

She took her hands off her hips. "Oh, okay. Like the instrument? That's cool, I guess," Her voice made it clear she was not as interested as her words might make it seem.

"Where are you from again?" She was losing interest quickly, I could tell.

"Miami." Maybe if I just give her one word answers, she'll go away.

"Wow! That's awesome, what's it like?" The bell rang then, saving me from what probably would have been a pointless discussion with someone who would hate me in a matter of weeks anyway.

Grace seemed genuinely disappointed, and suggested I sit with her and her friends at lunch so I could tell her about Florida. I agreed, having neither the courage nor the will to refuse.

Since my luck seemed to be coming in such abundance today, my first class was AP Chemistry. I managed to find the classroom swiftly enough, but unfortunately could not make it to my seat undetected. The teacher, in her mid-forties made me stand up in front of the class to introduce myself. The class appeared to be made up of mostly upper-classmen (Seniors). I swear to you, one boy in the back looked like he was at least twenty years old.

"I- I'm Viola." I said, regretting my decision to put my hair in a bun so I couldn't hide behind it.

"Where are you from Viola?" Mrs. Fey asked kindly.

"Miami." I said quietly. The teacher must have realized that she wasn't getting anything more out of me, because she then directed me to go find a seat.

Normally, I prefer to sit in the front during class but there were no open chairs. In fact, there was only one open chair- in the very back, next to the adult-looking boy. I cautiously sat down, desperately avoiding eye contact. Once the class started, it wasn't quite as difficult because I was completely focused on the lesson and taking my notes. They seemed to be in roughly the same chapter that we were in back in my old school, so that was good.

"Do you have any more loose leaf paper?" Hulk-boy asked me in a rough, scratchy voice. I took an extra piece out of my folder and handed it to him quickly, sparing him only a quick glance before I returned to my copious note-taking. Apparently though, Hulk-boy wanted to chat.

"I'm Quil. How do you like La Push?" He whispered.

"It's okay." I said simply, not wanting to be rude but _definitely_ not wanting to miss any of the lesson.

"You take a lot of notes." He observed.

"I know."

"Does anyone here know the exact calculation for _one_ molar mass?" Mrs. Fey asked the class.

When no one volunteered, I raised my hand. "One mole is equivalent to Avogadro's number, or six-point-zero-two times ten to the twenty-third." I recited from memory. About half the class turned to stare at me and I realized that I just managed to label myself "nerd" in just one sentence. Well, better sooner rather than later, I suppose.

"Very good Viola." The teacher complimented before returning to her lecture. Quil didn't try to talk to me again for the rest of the lesson, for which I was thankful.

The two other classes before lunch flew by pretty quickly, because Calc and English were both my best subjects. However, the curriculum for English was entirely different, which terrified me. Luckily though, I had already read the book they were currently on, being the avid reader that I am. As long as my AP credits are still valid, I have no complaints.

By the time lunch rolled around, I had forgotten about Grace and mine's little "agreement". Grace, apparently, hadn't. As I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while walking to an empty lunch table, I heard my name being called continuously, causing me to jump almost five feet in the air.

"Viola! Over here, come sit with us!" She called, standing up and waving over to what appeared to be an extremely preppy-looking crowd. She began to approach me and I desperately tried to stutter out an excuse without sounding absolutely terrified.

"T-that's ok-k-kay. I was j-just g-going to…"Damnit mouth, why won't you _work_! "To go t-to the library." I finally managed to say. To give her due credit, Grace managed to wait patiently and refrain from mocking me.

"Oh, no you don't. You can't possibly have that much homework on the first day. You're coming to sit with us." She stated definitively, literally dragging me to her table and pushing me into a vacant seat.

"Everyone, this is Viola. She is very shy." Grace stated bluntly as she introduced me to her group of friends. "Viola, this is Makayla, Travis, and Summer." She said as she pointed to a different person after each individual name. Summer was by far the most intimidating out of the whole group- her exotic, striking features adding an air of superiority to her attitude. The other two seemed generally harmless.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Makayla and Travis said practically in unison. Summer merely glanced at her phone with boredom, making no attempt to conceal the fact that she was texting someone instead of feigning interest in the "new girl".

I was so preoccupied with trying not to look terrified of Summer that I didn't notice that Grace had pulled out a chair next to me and was already chattering. "So, like. How did you go from _Miami_ to Small Town, USA?" Grace asked while taking a bite from her salad.

"My dad's job." I said, picking at the sandwich I bought from the cafeteria.

"Really? What does he do?"

"He's an anesthesiologist." By this time, most people ended the conversation due to boredom. Grace was no different.

"Huh. Sounds cool." She supplied half-heartedly while starting up a new conversation topic with Makayla and Travis as Summer continued her general glowering. I remained quiet until the end of the period, when the bell rang and I excused myself to go to French.

I was almost positive that none of those four would ever interact with me again. My three periods at the end of the day seemed to drag on, and when they finally ended I inwardly rejoiced.

There was no mad rush back to my car because there seemed to be a small breach in the rain, causing a misty, foggy-like aura that was nothing short of a _hell_ to drive in. Either way, I'll still take it over the blistering heat of Florida any day.

When I got home, I immediately went through my routine. One, walk upstairs, two, spread text books out on my bed, three, tip-toe past my mom's office into the kitchen and grab a piece of fruit for a snack, four, put on my worn pair of blue slippers, five, bury myself into my studies until dinner at 7:30.

It was like nothing had changed… because nothing had. Just the location.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for all your positive feedback! No Seth this chapter (sorry) but he will be here next chapter, I promise :) Please review, love yah!**


	3. Windows to the Soul

**Chapter 2- Windows to the Soul**

There was never anything unique about my high school days. Socially speaking, I mean. Of course, there were days harder academically than others, but socially? Socially, I knew exactly what to expect when I walked into my large, overcrowded high school in Miami.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

It's a tactic that works wonders. I walk into school expecting people to not notice me, then I'm not disappointed when I'm the last person picked in gym class, even though I am a fairly athletic person. And I'm not disappointed when no one sits with me at lunch, or… or asks me to a dance.

I'm perfectly happy. I'm _content_.

That's why when I walk into school, I'm legitimately surprised when Grace actually talks to me again. Granted, she was using me as merely a soundboard so she could rant to me (about God knows what), but it's something, right? That's what I convince myself of when walking to my first class after having listened to her monologue for a solid half-hour.

After sitting through a grueling two hours of French and US Gov. and Politics, I glanced back down at my schedule, looking to see what my next class was. Art, the paper told me. I was confused. In my old school, all of the "extra" classes, like art and music, could be dropped in favor of AP classes. I was almost certain my mom had already coordinated everything like that with the principle before I started. I should talk with the teacher.

"Mr. Lebowitz?" I asked the Italian-looking man making rounds behind each of the students easels as they got situated.

"Yes?" He asked, turning to face me. "Oh, a newbie! Welcome! I'll set you up a new canvas." He said, walking to the back of the closet as I feebly tried to catch his attention.

"Actually, sir, I was hoping I could talk to you about this class. In my old school, we were able to drop art so that we could double-up in another subject, and I'm terribly sorry that this wasn't coordinated before, but-"

"If you're looking to drop art, then I'm afraid that is merely not an option." He stated simply, while continuing to set me up a work station.

"But sir!" I said, trying to catch up with him as he rushed back and forth from my station to the closet. "If art class isn't mandatory, I would really rather prefer pursuing another math course." I hadn't taken art class since middle school. What did he mean 'not an option'?

"Ah, but that is where you are mistaken, dear newbie. You're in La Push High now, and art class is indeed mandatory. As I tell all my students- art is a form of expression. _Art _is a form of relaxation. And if anyone looks like they need some relaxation, it is you my dear. So why don't you just pick up a paint brush and relax?" He stressed, guiding me over to the canvas like a shepherd guides a lost sheep.

I sat there, dumbfounded. Never in my life has a teacher talked to me like that, while simultaneously telling me I needed to relax. I wasn't offended, just surprised.

Not to mention I had a new problem. What do I paint? A quick glance down the aisle at my classmates canvas' showed that there didn't seem to be any specific assignment.

"Ah, Mr. Clearwater. How nice of you to show up. Why don't you take a seat in the back next to our new student?" Mr. Lebowitz said with a hint of bitter sarcasm that lead me to believe "Mr. Clearwater" had the tendency to skip class.

"Sorry Sir!" His voice was unnaturally jubilant for someone who just got caught being late for class. I heard him sit down in the seat next to me and I tried to steal a quick glance without him noticing.

I managed to catch a glimpse of him. Immediately, I sucked in a breath and my eyes flicked back to the canvas as I felt my face heat up with a blush.

Okay, so I was sitting next to a male model. Good to know. I coughed and tried to focus on the empty canvas in front of me, but I found it difficult. Honestly, all I wanted to do was stare at my classmate, which was pretty pathetic.

Gosh, it's a good thing he isn't in any of my other classes, because he clearly does strange things to my usually-resilient self-control.

Focus, Viola, focus. Art. Okay. What do I draw? I've never really drawn anything before. Okay, no, that's stupid, of course I've doodled and I've done all that dumb watercolor stuff in school, but he was giving us free range. I'm the kind of person who needs specific _directions_.

I decided to just draw a random object in the room then later I could go and paint it. I scanned the surrounding area, my eyes landing on an orange on Mr. Lebowitz's desk- simple enough.

I dug around in my backpack and pulled out a pencil, but before it could even touch the canvas it was plucked out of my hand. "Ah, ah, ah! No pencil, newbie. Just relax and _paint_." The teacher reinforced. I wonder if he's ever going to bother learning my name, or if he's just going to keep calling me "newbie" for the rest of the year.

"Hey, can I borrow your paint brush? The small one?" My unnaturally attractive neighbor asked.

Oh, man. Here's where my awkwardness starts acting up. I could already feel my face becoming shades pinker than usual. "S-sure," I stuttered inarticulately.

I fumbled a little with the brush before handing it to him, my eyes remaining downcast out of sheer embarrassment. My hand brushed his as I passed the brush along and I felt his ridiculously hot skin. Like he was running a fever. I couldn't help it- I looked up out of surprise, only to find him looking down at me.

Oh, wow.

Forget attractive, he was downright beautiful. Just sitting next to him made me feel… inadequate. His dark eyes pierced into mine intensely. He released a long breath and I realized he had been holding it.

"_Beautiful_…" He whispered, echoing my thoughts.

This snapped me out of it immediately and I nearly jumped as I had to turn my whole body back to the front of the classroom, unaware that I had unconsciously shifted towards him. My brain worked in overtime as my face threatened to overheat from shame. God, _how_ had he known I was thinking that about him?

I berated myself inside my own head. The only possible explanation would be that I said it out loud. Oh my god, that must be it. I must have whispered how beautiful he was without realizing it, or something equally dorky. I am _such_ a loser.

I stared desperately at my easel, willing my face to turn back to its natural color. It wasn't cooperating. I could feel him still staring at me unwaveringly and obviously.

I counted to ten. Still staring. Twenty. Still staring. Do I have something on my face? I felt a bit of anger flare up to compliment my shame.

I mean, I get that I'm weird, but does he really have to make it so obvious by ogling my strangeness in the middle of a crowded classroom? If he doesn't like me, he could have at least done the polite thing and ignored me instead of making a scene like this. I decided right then and there that I didn't care how good-looking this boy was- if he was so intent on humiliating me in front of the class I wasn't going to fawn over him. At all.

This decision made me slightly more confident- it brought the color in my cheeks down a little and I sat up straighter. Who did he think he was?

"Seth!" Mr. Lebowitz yelled in a voice much sticter than one I ever could have imagined him using. The staring boy blinked violently a few times and leaned a little bit away from me- and thank god for that. His scent- a combination of dulled spearmint with an undercurrent of pine- was immensely distracting.

"If you insist on only coming to class three times a semester," He continued, looking into the gaze of "Seth" who still seemed dazed and unfocused. "Then I want you to actually do _work_."

Seth licked his lips, still not saying anything. He glanced between me and the teacher and swayed a little bit unsteadily on his chair. Mr. Lebowitz seemed to notice this and his brow furrowed. "Seth?" He asked.

Seth's eyes danced between the both of us again, and I wondered briefly if he was having an epileptic seizure. "Are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?" He questioned, the concern in his voice now outweighing the harsh tone of a lecture.

"Huh?" Seth asked intelligently, seeming to only fully notice Mr. Lebowitz just now.

"I said; do you need to go to the nurse, Seth?" He repeated himself.

"N-no?" It came out sounding unsure, more of a question that an answer.

Mr. Lebowitz stared at him suspiciously for a second, as if contemplating whether or not he was going to send him there anyway. Finally, he took a step back, eyes narrowed. "Do your work Seth." He ordered, pointing at his empty easel one last time before walking away. Seth nodded and released a breath which he had apparently been holding.

I made absolutely sure that I kept my eyes focused straight ahead- right at my easel, using only my peripheral vision to see what was happening. Now that the drama was over, I really needed to start painting. Looking up at the clock, I realized that there was only about a half an hour left of class.

I dipped my brush in the orange paint and quickly got to work, as I was not the kind of person who liked being behind, even if it was in something as trite as art class. I wished that I could bring the orange up here, get a better look at it, but I also didn't want to bring any attention to myself.

I admit to being a bit of a perfectionist, hence the reason why it took me almost ten minutes to paint an orange circle. Painstakingly slow, yet accurate, I began to detail it from memory rather than sight.

"Five minutes! Start cleaning up your work station." Mr. Lebowitz called. Thankfully, I had just managed to finish. I went over to the sink, bringing my dirty brushes along with me.

Admittedly, art class seemed to be calming. However, it was not something that I could see benefitting me in the long run, so the class would have to be changed.

I walked back over to my easel just as Mr. Lebowitz was making his way around the room, looking at each student's work for the day. "It's very good Seth. See all the things you can get _finished_ when you actually come to class?" He was saying. Out of curiosity, I glanced up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the mysterious "Seth" had painted.

It was an eye. It was actually pretty realistic looking. It should have been creepy, just a painting of an eye, but somehow it wasn't. The color of the iris was what really made the painting good. It was a beautiful shade of dark blue- like the sky right before a storm.

I mindlessly touched my own eyes self-consciously. I received neither my mother's strong, intelligent grey eyes nor my father's piercing bright blue. Instead, I got a strange mixture- an indefinable mush of colors.

"Thanks." Seth said proudly, giving a crooked smile and going to clean off his paintbrush.

"And what have you painted, newbie?" Mr. Lebowitz asked kindly, coming over to judge my progress.

"It's an orange." I felt compelled to tell him.

"I can see that." He said, his hand rubbing his chin contemplatively. I sat quietly and patiently. "It's not very imaginative, don't you think?" Well, he's frank, I'll give him that.

"I didn't know what to paint sir."

"Well, as far as paintings of oranges go, this is quite talented. But don't be afraid to think out of the box. In other words; no more fruit." He advised with a smile, patting me on the back before moving on to the next person.

I sighed, putting my painting on the window sill to dry with the rest of the student-made art. I was surprised to see that lunch was my next period on my schedule- it seemed early. I slipped out of the classroom inconspicuously as the rest of the class ran around, oblivious to my departure.

Walking down the empty hallway, I resolved to not go into the cafeteria again today, and to instead make a straight beeline for the library. Unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to even see the school library yet, so I wasn't quite clear on how to get there. I turned down a corner randomly, hoping that by some miracle it would lead me to the library.

It didn't.

I tried again, only becoming more lost. By this point, students had begun to file out of class, and it appeared that I was walking in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. I was trying my hardest not to bump into, or even touch anybody, but like a salmon swimming upstream, it was inevitable. Someone unintentionally shoulder-checked me rather roughly into the lockers and the inside of my wrist hit one of the combination locks, sending a shooting pain through my arm. I held in a whimper.

"Viola? Hey, Vi!" My head snapped back at the slightly recognizable voice, confused. Why would anyone be calling my name? And why would this person think they knew me well enough to give me a nickname? Vi? I've never been called that in my life.

I was only a little surprised to see Grace waving her hand over at me, beckoning me forward. "Vi! The cafeteria's this way, c'mon I'll show you." She said enthusiastically, giving me no time to protest as she pulled me across the hall and through the double doors of the cafeteria.

I stumbled behind her, my genetically short legs unable to keep up. Grace was already talking, but I was more focused on not falling on my face than actually listening to her. "We're sitting right over here, do you need to buy lunch or anything?" She asked, waiting patiently for my answer.

"I, uh-"

"New girl!" What was this, just the day of people calling my name? I couldn't see the person calling my name, but I was pretty sure that I didn't recognize the deep, male voice. Grace apparently knew him, however, judging by the fact that she quickly straightened her posture, her dark skin getting a slight red tint to it.

I turned around to see the gargantuan from Chemistry class the day before standing before me. I racked my brains, trying to remember his name. Quin? Or was it Quil?

He seemed to sense my inner struggle, grinning and sticking out a large hand. "I'm Quil. We're in Chemistry together?" He reminded.

"Yeah, I know." I said, giving his hand a loose shake then dropping it quickly, maintaining minimal contact. I looked at the floor, embarrassed with my own awkwardness.

"Do you want to eat lunch with us?" He offered. For once, I was grateful for Grace's presence.

"Uh, no, I can't. I told Grace…" I trailed off, stopping when Grace tried to surreptitiously elbow me in the stomach. I instinctively tensed.

"Of course she will!" Grace said, more peppy than usual. I glance between the two of them, sure of only one thing- I did _not_ want to eat lunch with him.

"Great." He replied with a half smile in her direction, walking off, expecting me to follow him. I stood frozen in my place.

"What are you doing?" Grace hissed, giving me a slight push in his direction. "_Follow_ him." I stumbled forward a bit, but still didn't move. Grace sighed in what sounded a bit like frustration. "Look, I know you're new here and don't know any of the ropes, but I'll explain everything later. For now, all you need to do is go _sit _with him, okay?"

I obeyed aimlessly, in no position to argue. It would only be much later when I would start to question my inherent submission.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for all your kind reviews! I hope it gets more interesting for you guys now that Seth is in the picture. Please review :)**


	4. Judge a Book

**Chapter 3- Judge a Book**

Like me, Quil was not much of a talker. Either that or he was trying his very hardest not to overwhelm me by chit-chat. I appreciated it.

I followed him to a table that, upon seeing the occupants, I wanted to promptly crawl in a hole and die. Mostly, it was just a group of large muscled boys (men?) who, in appearance, much resembled Quil. But it was one of those boys in particular that caught my attention.

Seth.

I looked up at him from under my lashes, observing him from my distance a few feet away, him unaware of my presence. He was laughing, his friends patting him on the back, congratulating him for some unknown accomplishment. He sat there with a goofy smile on his face, not resisting their hair-ruffles or good-natured arm punches.

I was frozen like a deer in the headlights. "Everyone, this is Viola." Quil introduced, gaining everyone's attention immediately. He waited, pausing dramatically before continuing. "The _new_ girl." He said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

They stared. I fidgeted.

Seth gaped, looking between Quil and I with disbelief. "That's her!" He whispered to Quil, trying to prevent me from hearing him.

Quil just rolled his eyes, humored. "Why don't you sit next to Seth, Viola?" Quil suggested.

Seth scrambled to pull up an open chair so that there was a vacant seat right next to him. I kept my eyes downcast as I walked to the seat, aware that everyone was still looking at me.

"Thanks." I tried to say, but it came out as more of a whisper.

Seth beamed at me as his face took a bit of a pink tint. "I'm Seth" He introduced as the people around us lost interest, going back to shoveling in food off their plate.

"I know." I said, immediately flushing at the answer that automatically came out of my mouth. Seth didn't seem to mind my rudeness.

"And you're Viola?" He questioned.

I just nodded, worried that if I opened my mouth, I would say something incomprehensibly stupid… or maybe just something incomprehensible.

"It's nice to meet you." He said, staring at me intently and looking like he wished to say much more.

"Yes… you too." I finally managed to get out, sounding at least semi-normal.

I pulled my brown paper lunch bag out of my backpack and set it on the table, hoping that my actions would signal the end of the conversation. Seth, however, was not picking up on my subtle hints.

"Where are you from?" He asked, just as I took a bite of sandwich.

Thankfully, Quil piped in on my behalf, saving me from having to answer. "Dude, give her some room to breathe." He instructed before turning to grin at me. "Don't mind Seth. He just hasn't been house-trained quite yet."

I glanced down and smiled slightly at his joke while Seth shot him a death-glare.

"So tell us about yourself Viola." One of the other boys said, chewing his food with an obnoxious exuberance.

I put the sandwich down and chose my words carefully. "I'm from Florida. My family moved here because of my father's job." For some reason, I found it significantly easier talking to this nameless boy than talking to Seth. Something about Seth just made me nervous.

"Huh." The boy said, nodding. He put a wicked smirk on his face before asking the next question. "So if you're a junior, then why are you in classes with Quil? Are _you_ really smart and nerdy, or is our boy here just really stupid? C'mon, tell the truth now." He teased.

I knew he didn't intend for the comment to be delivered maliciously, but I couldn't help it. His teases reminded me too much of the "joking" directed towards me back in Florida. I stood up from the table, my momentary comfort now a fleeting idea.

My face was red with a blush and I was stuttering again- right back to square one. "Oh, I- I just realized!" I lied pathetically. "I told my teacher I would meet with her. G-got to go." I said with attempted sincerity.

I gathered my bags quickly and began to walk away, only to hear my name being called by Seth when I was no more than a few feet away. "Viola! Wait!"

I turned around to see him standing in front of me with a tentative smile on his face. I glanced behind him and realized all his friends were staring at us now with entertained smirks on their faces.

He licked his lips and looked me directly in the eyes. "I forgot to ask, um…" He paused. "I forgot my phone number, can I use yours?"

"Um, sure." I said to his strange request, digging my phone out of my bag before it dawned on me. "Wait, what?"

Seth was already cracking up, as I could see his friends doing as well at the lunch table. It didn't escape my notice that they were exchanging money in the background, having obviously made bets on my perceptiveness.

I looked at the ground, trying to hide my smile of enjoyment. Seth might not be the kind of kid who shows up for class all the time, but he certainly isn't stupid. "That was pretty funny." I admitted, staring at my shoes.

Seth beamed at me, showing his perfect white teeth. "You have to give it to me now." He said. "It's the rule. If you fall for the phone number pick-up line, you have to tell me your number."

I blushed at his perseverance. "I don't think that's how it works." I said, thinking of how displeased my mother would be if she found out about this.

I gave him one last small smile before starting to walk away again. Seth was not taking "no" for an answer though. "Oh, come on!" He exclaimed, walking in front of me and blocking the exit with his large frame. "Prince Charming got a shoe. Don't I get _anything_?"

I bit my lip and looked up at his tall frame. "I don't _know_ you." I stated truthfully.

He shrugged, looking at me with big black puppy dog eyes and a vulnerable lopsided smile. "But isn't that how this is supposed to start?" He asked.

Good _lord_, this boy could charm state secrets out of the CIA. How am I supposed to say no to that face? "Okay," I whispered, conceding much quicker than usual.

He grinned the largest I have seen yet and I practically melted into a puddle in front of him. He handed me his phone and I put my number in it and swiftly excused myself once I had given it back. I had to get out of there before he conned me into selling away my soul as well.

As I walked down the hall and tried to get my head out of the clouds, a hand shot out from one of the doors, pulling me into the girl's restroom quickly. I opened my mouth to scream but Grace shoved her palm over my mouth, stopping me.

"Well?" She asked, bouncing up and down as I tried to still my racing heart. "Tell me _everything_."

I gave her a brief synopsis of the events, which she waited through with a surprising amount of restraint. "Oh my _god_." She stated after I was finished, fanning herself dramatically with her hand.

"So, um, who _are_ all of they?" I asked curiously. "I really only know Quil and Seth."

"Ugh, where to start…" Grace said, throwing her hands in the air.

"Well, first you have Quil. He's the smart one. Then there's Embry, the funny one, and Jacob, the _hot_ one." She said, ticking them off her fingers as she went along. "Then Seth of course, the cute one." She explained, smirking at me.

"And then there's also Jared, the sweet one, and Paul, the bad boy. You don't know them though, they graduated last year." She said.

"What about the other two at the table?" I asked, trying to imagine the layout of the lunch table in my head, but realizing I was missing names. Grace shrugged.

"They're Brady and Collin. They're just freshman. They don't really have titles yet, and they're basically the same person anyway." I nodded absorbing this new information.

"But _God,_ you're so lucky. What are you going to do if he calls you?" She asked.

I shrugged. "He won't." I decided, sticking to my theory that it was more of a show of bravado for his friends then it was him actually caring about getting my number.

Literally, as the words were coming out of my mouth, my phone rang in my backpack. With wide eyes, Grace and I looked at each other before I scrambled for the phone. I flipped it open without looking at the caller. "Hello?" I answered, my voice shaky.

Grace had her hands slapped over her mouth to contain her excited squeals. "Is it too soon to call you still?" Seth's deep voice asked over the phone.

"Is it him?" Grace whispered, uncovering her mouth momentarily. I bit my lip and nodded. She made a high pitched noise. "That's _so_ cute!"

"Maybe just a little." I said, smiling.

Seth sighed dramatically, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "I've always been really bad at waiting." I giggled. "Is there any chance I can convince you to come to the beach with me after school anyway?"

I thought for a second. My mom wasn't home today, she drove down to the city to do business with a client. My dad's shift was long this week. He wouldn't be home until about nine. I seemed to be in the clear. Seth cleared his throat on the other line. "Viola? C'mon, you're worrying me over here." He said nervously. I realized I hadn't answered yet and it's been about a full minute.

"Um, who else is going?" I asked, feeling anxious at the idea that it would just be me and Seth. As much as I already liked him, I still didn't know him at all.

"Me, Embry, Jake, etcetera. But Kim and Leah will be there too if you're worried about having to deal with us guys." He said with a chuckle.

I bit my lip again, not believing what I was about to do. "Sure." I blurted out before I lost my nerve.

"Awesome." He said happily. "Meet me at my car after school and we can drive there together."

"Oh, I have my own car. Sorry." I said, wishing for a split second that I had walked this morning instead of taking my Chevy.

"Oh," Seth stated, his positive attitude deterred for only a moment. "That's too bad! Well Quil is in your next class, I'll get him to give you directions. See you soon Viola." He said before hanging up.

"Bye." I whispered to the dial tone. I closed the phone.

Grace was freaking out. "Eeeee, I'm so excited for you! You don't understand what a big deal this is! What are you going to _wear_?" She gushed.

"Um, probably just this." I stated, looking down at my hastily thrown together outfit.

She scrunched her nose and looked down at me. "The jeans are fine, but it's too cold out for a t-shirt. Here, we're about the same size. Switch with me." She decided for me, pulling her sweater off shamelessly.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"Of course I do! What are friends for?"

Right.

_Friends_.

I quickly exchanged tops with her. Maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad after all.

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><p><strong>AN: I had a lot of fun writing Seth. I feel like he's this cute kid who is really funny and cheesy and stuff. Thank you all for your reviews, I love every single one of them! You guys are great :)**


	5. Two's Company

**Chapter 4- Two's Company**

Promptly at three o'clock, as soon as the bell rang, I made my way over to my car in the parking lot. I clutched the directions Quil had hastily scribbled on notebook paper tightly in my hand, worried it would fly away in the breeze.

Grace caught my eye from across the parking lot and flashed me a thumbs up and a wink, brightening my face with her unusual kindness. I smiled back tentatively.

With no sign of Seth or any of his cronies, I got into my slightly out-dated car and followed the illegible yet precise directions of Quil. My phone rang on the passenger seat where I had placed it, and I hesitated to answer, despite the fact that there wasn't a single car on the wide, open road.

However, when I glanced down and saw the name "Mom" flashing on the screen, I practically scrambled for the phone in my rush to not miss the call. "Hello?" I breathed, trying to sound normal.

"Hi, honey." The tone of her voice led me to believe that she was in one of her rare good moods. It was all I could do not to sigh in relief. "I'm in a bit of a rush, but how was school?"

"It was good Mom. Fine." I said, making absolutely sure not to say anything that may provoke her.

"Have you talked to anyone about a chemistry tutor yet?"

"No, I haven't gotten around to it." I admitted, holding back from reminding her it was only my second day of school. Less is always more with my mother.

"Well get around to it, because you can't afford for that grade to start dropping." She chided, sounding more and more like the mom I was used to.

"The reason I called was to tell you I found you a flute teacher in town." I held in a groan.

I hated playing the flute. It's not that I was bad at it, (how could I be, I had been taking lessons since I was four) it was just that I wasn't getting any better. I had gotten to the point where I was _good_, as good as any of my peers who had attended the prestigious music school with me. The difference between _them_ and _me _ was that _they_ had a passion for the instrument, they _cared_ about it.

I wasn't a prodigy, I would never play in a symphony, and as a hobby, it bored me. It was usually the time where most parents would let their kids drop the lesson in favor of something that interested them more. But not my parents.

To stop taking flute lessons was, in their minds, the equivalent of quitting. Giving up. And Marroks do not _quit_.

So I suffered through my hour-long lessons, twice a week, every week for over a decade of my lice. Not to mention all the time spent practicing the damned thing.

"Viola? Are you even listening to me?" My mother's voice pulled me back to the present.

I shook my head, clearing it of all the straying thoughts. Not listening when mom was talking was a sure-fire way to get on her bad side (and quick).

"Ah, sorry Mom. I thought I took a wrong turn there for a second." I said, half-truthfully. It sounded like a much better answer than 'I zoned out'.

"You got lost on your way _home_?" She questioned, sounding a little suspicious, as I usually have a great sense of direction.

I was a terrible liar, but there was no way I was going to tell her that I was driving to the beach to hang out with a boy I just met. "Uhm, yeah." I swallowed, hoping I didn't start to stutter. When I was a kid I had to have speech therapy to have it corrected, it was that bad. "It's still a new town, and I was a little distracted talking to you, that's all."

"Alright. What I was saying was your new teacher isn't quite as good as the Conservatory back in Miami, but she comes highly recommended so she'll have to do for now. You'll start with her next week."

"What's her name?" I asked as I turned into a small parking lot that overlooked the beach.

"Miss Hale, Miss Rosalie Hale. I have a partner's meeting in five, I have to go. Your father should be home tonight before ten. Bye." She hung up before I responded.

I sighed and put down the phone, silently praying that Miss Hale wouldn't be quite so hard on me as my past teachers have been. I got out of my Chevy and looked- really looked- for the first time since I had parked the car.

What I saw was breathtaking. An expanse of rocky soil eclipsed the waterline. The landscape was created by different shades of grey-more than I even knew existed. On each side of the water, green pines dotted the shore, adding subtle bursts of color. The center of the whole vision went on seemingly forever, the horizon blurred by fog and distance, so much so that I was unable to tell where the sky ended and where the ocean began.

It was like the whole thing was begging for a splash of color- some blue here, some yellow there. The wind blew and the leaves rustled and the whole place throbbed with _life_ like nothing I had ever felt before.

This was nothing like any of the overcrowded beaches in Miami full of tourists snapping pictures and screaming children and women with long hair and cold eyes wearing bikinis that were much too small for them. This is quiet but stunning, deserted but full, serene but exciting, inviting but mysterious and everything else my limited imagination could have ever conjured up.

I walked down to the water and stood there for a minute, closing my eyes and embracing the sensation of the ocean lapping at my toes and the wind whipping through my hair. I got all choked up, just wishing I could stay here forever, with my arms spread wide inviting the world to throw whatever it had left at me.

Here, I could take it.

Here, nothing could touch me- not my mother, not the tormenters at my old school, not even myself. Here, I was just a part of the scene. Part of the trees, part of the ocean, part of the sand, part of life.

Here, I couldn't hide. The waves crashed and they whispered that they knew my secrets. The winds howled and they told me they saw my scars. The sands slipped between my toes and they murmured at me to stop hiding.

It was a safe place.

I wasn't the daughter of a lawyer and a doctor. I wasn't a straight A student. I wasn't a loner without a friend to speak of. I was _Viola_, a girl.

If I could bottle this feeling and carry it around with me, I would never cut again.

"Viola?" A voice interloped into my peace and I gasped, my eyes fluttering open. The feeling was gone.

I was still Viola, broken.

I wiped the few escaped tears off my cheek with the back of my sweater-wrapped hand. "Hey, are you okay?" A big russet-colored hand touched my shoulder gently and I flinched. I looked up into Quil's confused eyes.

"Yeah," My voice was groggy and overcome with emotion so I cleared my throat and tried again. "Just thinking."

The side of his mouth pulled down into a frown. "Homesick?" He asked, doubt obviously lingering in his tone. It was like a challenge, like him inviting me to tell him what was _really _bothering me.

"Yes. Homesick." I replied unconvincingly.

I could tell he knew I was lying to him, but he didn't say anything about it. He looked down, smiling sadly at his feet. "Okay." He said, sitting down next to me as we waited in silence.

"Where is everyone?" I whispered, afraid to speak too loud and disturb the nature around me.

"Sam's place. They had to do something. Seth sent me over here to tell you that he promises he didn't forget about you, he just might be a little late."

"H- how many people are coming?" I asked, pulling on the end of my sweater nervously.

Quil shrugged, picking at his shoelaces. "A lot. About ten or so, I guess."

I cringed. I knew I couldn't handle that many people. Not when they were here. I needed this beach to be untouched for a little while longer. I had to preserve the illusion of safety.

Quil was okay. He was unimposing. He valued the sanctity of this place. Somehow, he knew also. He knew to treat it with respect.

It may sound crazy or greedy or selfish or mean, but I needed to keep this beach to myself for a while longer, pretend it was _my_ beach, my safe place.

A dozen boisterous high-schoolers would ruin that façade. "I can't stay late, I have a lot of work to do." I lied again, apparently making it a trend.

Quil looked up, studying my face, reading me. "Alright." He said reluctantly.

Unwilling to leave just yet, I leaned down and picked up a handful of sand, letting it slip between my fingers and back onto the ground. A coarse rock remained in my palm, too big to fall through the cracks in my fingers. I examined it, holding it close to my face, feeling between the ridges and dips in the design.

"It's a beach stone." He explained from my side. "Amethyst, by the looks of it. Pretty lucky find."

I smiled at the rock, putting it into my pocket delicately as a reminder to come back here later. "I'm going to go." I said as I quietly stood up.

"Seth will be disappointed." He stated, looking up at me with unhidden curiosity.

I blushed and looked down at my feet, feeling terrible, but not quite terrible enough to stay. "Tell him I'm sorry." I replied as I backed away like a coward.

"I will." Quil promised as the waves pushed up around his ankles reassuringly.

I waved an awkward goodbye and rushed to my car just as rain began to slowly drip down from within the thick canopy of trees. I drove home in silence, choosing instead to let the patter of raindrops on my windshield create melodies of their own.

I tiptoed upstairs to get my books before remembering that no one was home so there was no one to disturb. I didn't know if I was quiet out of habit, or because of how the house made me feel. It was just so empty and cold and disapproving. Loud noises didn't suit this house. It was still so bare that if I dropped a book, it might echo.

I sat down at the ridiculously large and ostentatious dining room table, piling my textbooks neatly next to me. Despite the large number of studying materials I had brought with me, the long table practically engulfed me. I studied from my notes for a while, sitting up erect in the uncomfortable but expensive chairs.

My phone dinged about half an hour in, startling me with a noise I had never heard it make before. I looked down at it, realizing I had a new text message. I've never gotten one of those.

_Hey, this is Seth. Missed you at the beach today. You'll still be at school though, right?_

I let a ghost of a smile dance across my face. Suddenly, the idea of Seth on my beach, my safe place- it didn't seem so bad anymore.

_Yes_.

I typed back simply.

_Good. I'll see you tomorrow then, Viola._

I didn't respond after that, but I had this little fluttery feeling in my chest for the rest of the night.

At eight o'clock I put my books away and heated up a plate of leftover pasta in the microwave. I sat alone at the head of the oversized table, the room dimly flooded with artificial light.

Then I sat up and waited for my dad, pretending to read a book when in reality my eyes would flicker to the door every few seconds. I hadn't seen him since we got to Forks. The only reason I knew he had even been home was because I washed a few of his shirts in the laundry yesterday.

The door never opened.

At one a.m., I flicked the light off and walked up the stairs into my room in the dark, not caring when the sounds of my footsteps echoed.

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><p><strong>AN: Wow, yeah it's been a while. I feel bad for anyone reading this story, because it is currently like loowwww down on my priorities list. I'll update periodically, but I always seem to be behind nowadays. Also, I just discovered that I am apparently allergic to beestings and my hand is all red and puffy so I'm basically typing this with the human equivalent of a broken wing. Thought you should know. And um, now that you have heard me vent about all the reasons why I should NOT be writing a new story, it's probably not the best time to tell you that yeah, I started a Kim/Jared story. I can't help myself. It's like I'm an addict and new stories are my crack. But yeah, more information forthcoming on either my profile or (if you read my Jacob/OC story) in one of the authors notes in my other story, Angel's Ploy. Rather loquacious authors note, but I had a lot to say. Thanks, as always, for your support and I love you all!**


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